Seven Reasons Not to Get Married
by Ryeloza
Summary: The signs are all there, but she still thinks they're meant to be.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Never has been. Never will be.

**Story Summary: **The signs are all there, but she still thinks they're meant to be.

**A/n: **Not sure where this idea came from, but I felt like doing something a little different. Please review and let me know what you think!

**Seven Reasons Not to Get Married**

A story by **Ryeloza**

**He Doesn't Know How to Cheer You Up**

"You know what I like about you? You have cute earlobes."

"Oh. Really. Cute earlobes?" Annabel sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. Tonight, of all nights, she wasn't in the mood for Tom's lackluster attempts to be amorous. They'd lost an account today and her boss was squarely placing the blame on her, a fact that was as unfair as it was untrue.

"Yep," said Tom, not cluing in to her bad mood. He reached out a hand and pushed her hair aside, playing with her ear with his clumsy fingers. "In fact, I'd say they're dainty."

"Dainty? How many beers have you had?"

"Enough that I can't undo this hickey-ma-bob. How the hell do you get this earring off?"

Annabel rolled her eyes. "You don't."

"But if I don't then I can't really touch your ear. And I really want to touch your ear."

Sighing, Annabel batted his hand away like a pesky fly. _Let's go get a drink and cheer you up_, he had said at the end of the day. _It'll get your mind off of things_. She should have known better. He'd dragged her to this stupid bar completely swelled with a bunch stupid people from work. His cluelessness was less than charming. "We are in a public place," she hissed. "Stop touching me."

"Fine." Tom stood up. He seemed steadier than she'd thought he was; maybe he wasn't actually drunk. "I'm going to get another beer. You want anything?"

"No."

Tom sauntered off in the direction of the bar, leaving Annabel to slouch back in her seat alone with her thoughts. Her boss was trying to force her out; that she knew without question. What she wasn't sure of was whether she should fight for her job or just bow out while she was still ahead. There wasn't much to keep her here. She didn't really like her job. The city wasn't anything to write home about. Her family was still in Chicago. The only thing here was Tom. And she was beginning to think that a guy who wanted to be a sex buddy more than her boyfriend-hopefully-soon-fiancé might not even be worth staying for.

Especially, Annabel noted as she glanced up, since he was currently chatting up some blonde twig at the bar. Annabel glowered. He was going to get an earful the second they were out of this bar.

"You two off-again right now?"

Annabel turned her head and her frown deepened. Of all the people to notice her in this crowded place, it had to be Jake. The only thing bigger than his mouth was his ego. "Go away," she said bluntly.

"Chilly reception. Look, Annabel, I'm just trying to watch your back. I know you have a thing for Scavo."

"You're such a good Samaritan, Jake." Jake grinned and took a swig of the beer in his hand, and Annabel realized that if she wanted the scoop she'd actually have to give in and ask. "Fine," she said belligerently. "What do you know?"

"He's weak in the knees for her."

"What?" Annabel looked over at Tom again. Upon closer inspection, the blonde looked oddly familiar. "She works with us?"

"Yep. Lynette Lindquist. She and Scavo have like four accounts together. They're Anderson's new dream team. Hey, isn't that how you and Tom got started?"

She'd met Tom in a coffee shop, actually. One of those cute stories that was great to take home to the parents. He'd gotten her tea and she'd gotten his coffee. Two weeks later they'd bumped into each other interviewing at the same firm and when they found out that they'd both been hired, they went out to celebrate. The rest was history. Not that it was any of Jake's business. "What's her deal anyway?" asked Annabel.

Jake shrugged. "Not my type, but I can see why Scavo likes her. She laughs at his jokes."

"So do children."

Under the table, Jake nudged her knee with his. "Aw, cheer up, Foster. It's not like you and Scavo are serious."

"We've talked about marriage." Annabel winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. It was a half-truth. She'd talked; Tom had ignored her. And knowing Jake, it wouldn't be long until what she said got back to Tom.

"Well maybe you should have that talk again. Before they screw like monkeys."

_Yeah_, Annabel thought, watching Lynette playfully hit Tom's arm. _Maybe I should_.

**He Won't Spend the Night**

Annabel heard the mattress creak as Tom got out of bed and she rolled over and sat up, blinking at him owlishly. He stood there, putting his pants back on without a care in the world. "Where are you going? It's two in the morning."

"Yeah. And I'm tired. I'm going home."

She leaned forward and smiled, making an effort not to be annoyed. "I have a big bed right here. It's great for sleeping."

"Among other things," he joked crassly. It was enough to turn Annabel's mood sour.

"Lots of people who date spend the night together. The whole night. They don't just sneak out after sex." She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. "You make me feel so cheap."

"You don't spend the night at my place either."

"No woman in her right mind would spend the night at your place."

Tom finished buttoning his shirt, clearly as annoyed as she was now. Annabel didn't know why. His apartment was a tiny, cluttered place with furniture that looked like it had been bought at a garage sale. It was a college kid's apartment, not a grown man's. "Whatever," he grumbled, bending to tie his sneakers.

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing." Tom sighed and actually looked at her. "It means that you like your space and I like mine. And I'm fine with that. There's no reason not to be."

Annabel clenched the bedspread in her fist. "We should be figuring out how to live together, not apart."

Tom laughed, a sound that grated on her already thin nerves. "We'd kill each other," he said with the kind of casual indifference she'd expect from an acquaintance. "You don't even like the way I fold my socks." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "What's wrong with the way things are?"

Annabel grabbed his hand. "Just spend the night. Please."

"Annabel, I have to go." He squeezed her hand and then pulled away. "I'll see you tomorrow."

**Your Friends Don't Like Him**

"Are you and Tom coming to the wedding together?" asked Marta. "I can never keep track of whether you're dating or not, but I put you guys at the same table just in case."

"We are dating," snapped Annabel. "And of course we're going to your wedding together."

"Sorry!" Marta held up her hands apologetically. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive about it. No offense, Anna, but I thought you guys were kind of casual."

"We are…were…We're moving to the next level."

"Oh."

Annabel frowned. "What?

"Nothing. It's just…Look, don't take this the wrong way, but you and Tom are like oil and vinegar."

"Nice cliché."

"Come on, Annabel. You two argue all the time. You have, like, nothing in common. I always kind of thought you were just marking time with him until you met someone better."

Annabel leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and furrowing her brow. How easy it was for Marta to sit there passing judgment when she'd found her soul mate—a guy who sold tires for a living and had a collection of Bob Marley t-shirts. She had no idea what it was like to be alone. She had no idea what it was like to be with a guy who was perfect for you except that he didn't want to commit.

"I'm sorry," said Marta sincerely. "I shouldn't have said anything. It's your life. I just want you to be happy, sweetie."

"I am," said Annabel. _Or I will be_ _soon_.

**He Doesn't Dance with You**

They didn't go to the wedding together. They didn't sit together in the church. They were at the same table at the reception, but Tom purposely took a chair across from her. Annabel didn't get it. They'd been dating on and off for over a year now and that fact certainly wasn't a secret to anyone in the office, but suddenly Tom was acting like they had to be covert.

Annabel had the dreadful suspicion that it had to do with Lynette. She'd come with a date—some tall, skinny guy with good hair—and Tom's eyes were glued to them; had been all night. Despite, in her own humble opinion, being the best-dressed woman there, Annabel hadn't gotten more than a cursory glance and a mumbled, "You look nice," all night. The brush off stung, but Annabel wasn't exactly the type to just roll over and take it. By her third glass of wine, she felt more than confident enough to slink around the table and occupy the vacated seat next to Tom.

"You didn't bring a date," she observed casually.

"Neither did you."

"I wanted to come with you."

Tom snorted. "Why?" Immediately he seemed to regret being short with her. His eyes softened and he set down his drink. "Sorry. I'm just in a bad mood tonight."

"Weddings do that to single people," she said pointedly.

"It's not the wedding." Tom's gaze drifted away from her for a second; she didn't have to turn her head to know who he was looking at. Anxiously, Annabel put her hand on his shoulder, forcing his eyes to look toward her.

"We've been dating for more than a year, Tom."

"We broke up in March."

"We got back together in May," said Annabel quickly. She ran her hand over Tom's jaw. "I can never stay mad at you for long."

Tom shook his head. "We were lonely at the same time."

"That's almost poetic," she said thoughtfully. Tom simply looked perturbed. Annabel sighed; talking with him never seemed to get them anywhere. "Dance with me."

"Oh…No."

"Yeah, come on." She stood, pulling on his hand until he got to his feet, and they slowly walked to the dance floor together. It was a slow song; some sappy love ballad—the perfect way to set the mood. Without waiting for Tom to take the lead, Annabel wrapped her arms around Tom and pressed her cheek to his. After a moment, he returned the embrace and they started to circle the floor. He'd changed his aftershave; it was a lighter scent and she wasn't sure she liked it. But his strong arms, his chest firm against hers, his warm hands…those were all things Annabel was well used to and very fond of.

"This is nice," she murmured, pulling back a little to look up into his eyes. It turned out to be an impossible gesture. Tom's eyes were firmly fixed across the room and when Annabel turned to follow his stare, she realized Lynette was gazing right back at him.

She might as well have been invisible.

**He Doesn't Listen**

Their birthdays were a week apart, so they agreed to celebrate them together in the middle of the week. The plan was a big, romantic dinner together, but Tom had balked at the idea a few days before and asked if they could have lunch together instead. Annabel had reluctantly agreed, scared that he'd call it off completely if she didn't give in.

Tom showed up late—as usual—greeting her with a chaste kiss on the forehead before he took his seat. "Sorry," he said. "We had a big meeting and it ran a little late."

"For good reasons, I hope."

"Yeah. They weren't completely sold on the idea at first, but Lynette sweet-talked them into it. I swear that woman could sell water to a fish."

Annabel forced her smile to stay on her face. "Isn't that nice," she said. She had to get his mind off of the office—off of _her_. "Here." She pulled out her gift to him: cufflinks in the shape of bow ties. She'd never actually seen Tom in a bow tie, or cufflinks for that matter, but they were so classy looking. "Happy birthday."

"Oh, thanks," said Tom. He pulled out a box of his own and handed it over, raising an eyebrow when she clapped her hands excitedly. She waited just long enough for him to open his gift and say a somewhat subdued thanks before she tore the wrapping off of her own box and breathlessly opened it. Inside was a little charm in the shape of a high heel.

"For your bracelet," he said.

Annabel blinked at him, not quite sure what to say. "Tom, I lost that bracelet last month. Remember? I was freaking out about it."

"Oh really?" Tom sighed sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I must have forgotten. I've had a lot going on lately."

"Oh yeah. Of course," Annabel agreed with false cheeriness. She was mostly trying her hardest not to cry.

**He Doesn't Fight for You**

"I have some great news!" Annabel said, bursting into Tom's office without announcing herself. She hadn't even considered he might not be alone; it was lunchtime and Tom almost always ate in, but her good spirit immediately deflated when she noticed that Tom had a dining partner. And not just anyone, but a certain blonde bimbo. Against her better judgment, Annabel crossed her arms and let her defensiveness sneak into her voice: "Oh. I didn't realize you weren't alone."

"We're just working through lunch," offered Lynette amiably. Annabel scowled and then nearly fumed when Lynette turned and gave Tom a smile. "I need another iced tea, though. You want anything?"

"No thanks." Tom grinned at her like a fool, watching her until she left the room before turning to Annabel with a less-than-pleased expression. "We were working."

"You were flirting."

Tom blatantly ignored this. Somehow it was even worse than if he had denied it; like he couldn't care less if she knew or not. "What's going on?"

"Well, I just got off the phone with my parents. They're coming to visit next month and I was thinking maybe we could all get together…"

"No."

"What?" Annabel took Lynette's vacated seat, off-put for a moment by the fact that it was even closer to Tom's than she'd thought. She took a deep breath, but Tom cut her off again.

"Annabel, we really need to talk. I think we have different expectations about this relationship."

"You have a crush," said Annabel bluntly. She was learning the hard way that subtle didn't exactly work. Maybe if she confronted this head-on, Tom would realize how ridiculously he'd been acting. "Tom, I get it. She's new…She's…different. But that doesn't—"

"We kissed."

Annabel's heart stopped. "Excuse me? You…You…"

Tom leaned forward, clasping his hands on his desk with a very serious expression. Annabel desperately wanted to smack him, but her body was frozen. "It wasn't planned. One thing led to another and—"

"When?"

"After we landed the Donaldson account."

Annabel's hands clenched, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that she felt one of her nails break. "You mean right before our birthday lunch?"

"Er—"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Annabel…"

"No!" She stood up and stormed toward the door. "Don't talk to me right now, Tom! I don't want to hear it!"

An hour later, when Tom still hadn't stopped by her office to patch things up, Annabel left the office early. She cried all the way home.

**He's in Love with Someone Else**

Annabel was on her fifth drink without any end in sight, slowly becoming more and more oblivious to the pitying gaze of the bartender. Of course the one person who felt any compassion toward her was some stranger who had no idea what was going on. Her friends thought she was crazy. They'd wanted to get drunk and have a great night of bashing Tom like he was just some guy she'd had a fling with and not the love of her life. The saddest truth was that she still wanted him back. If he came in here this second and apologized and begged for forgiveness, Annabel would take him back.

This was just a passing fancy. She knew it. Guys got bored. And guys this close to marriage, well they still had wild oats left to sow or something. Once he got it out of his system he'd come crawling back on his hands and knees. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.

The door to the bar swung open and Annabel turned her head to see who it was. She'd been doing that all night; unable to fight her instinct that at some point tonight Tom would show up. This was their place. She couldn't count the number of times they'd come here after work. He'd know to find her there.

"Can I get another one of these?" mumbled Annabel.

"Sure." The bartender set about making the drink while Annabel slouched against the bar. It was crowded there tonight. She'd been lucky to show up early and get a good stool.

"Hey bartender," she slurred. "Can you do me a favor?"

He set the drink down in front of her and raised an eyebrow. "What do you need?"

"I have to make a phone call. Can you save my seat?"

The guy next to her—an older man in a suit who Annabel hadn't noticed all evening—turned and smiled. "I'll keep it warm for you, sweetie."

"Really?" Annabel smiled, picking up her drink and sliding off of the stool. "Thanks."

"Hurry back," he called.

Annabel walked toward the payphone at the back of the bar with more grace than she thought most people in her state would possess. When she got to the phone, she downed half her drink before setting it down, and then fumbled through her purse for some change. She punched in Tom's number from memory, dimly wondering how many times she'd called him over the last year as she listened to the rings. After the fifth one, the answering machine picked up. Annabel sighed, turning around to lean against the phone and observe the bar while listening to Tom's voice asking her to leave a message. And it was then that she spotted him.

He was sitting in a booth with _her_. They were on the same side, his arm around her shoulder and she was grinning up at him in complete adoration. Annabel watched, frozen in horror, as Tom leaned down and kissed her, pressing her back into the seat, his hand slowly grazing up and down her body. They might as well have been alone given how completely unaware they were of everyone else in the bar.

There was a beep in her ear. Annabel swallowed hard, unable to stop the tears from building up in her eyes. For a second, she went to hang up the phone, but then changed her mind, taking a deep breath.

"You love her, don't you?" she said quietly. "Not me. It was never me."

The answering machine didn't answer her. Tom couldn't magically cut in to tell her that she was wrong, that it had always, always been her. Annabel started to cry, muffling her sobs by putting her hand over her mouth. With as much dignity as she could muster, she hung up the phone and slowly walked out of the bar.

-_Fin-_


End file.
